


Rose Quartz and the Crystal Fems

by Annie Christ (SmokedSalmon)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Before Steven, F/F, F/M, Leather Jackets, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmokedSalmon/pseuds/Annie%20Christ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were supposed to take over the world with their terrestrial philosophy, celestial leather jackets and planetary rhythm and soul. With the guidance of the frontman Rose Quartz, Garnet truly believed in the leader's hymns about interstellar love and the concept of bringing solidarity to the masses, but what happens when a band containing nearly half a decade of heart literally crashes and burns in the middle of the Interstate, leaving an overnight success completely powerless? There's only one way to the top when you've hit rock bottom, but sometimes finding the beginning of that path is the hardest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose Quartz and the Crystal Fems

**Author's Note:**

> For my Pearl.

She was twenty-three and the streets were as damp as the sky was white. The sidewalks of Beach City, Delaware were for once void of tourists, and Garnet had taken the opportunity to meet with Rose at Big Donut to listen to another one of her 'stellar ideas.' But that was the thing about Rose. Her ideas were unquestionably rooted in good, and notionally speaking, she was above and beyond the rest. Her assertive sense of progressive love was why Garnet had befriended her in the first place. Not because Garnet needed a leader in her life, but because she needed a kind of silent solidarity.

The backdrop of that day was the churning waves of an oncoming storm, but to her right, directly lining the sidewalk, were kitschy stores and businesses somehow capable of brightening the gloomiest of mornings. Garnet thought about this, considered smiling, but didn't. Instead, she paused and looked through a sheet of glass only to realize what she was staring into was Lustrous Studios, a dance studio that had transplanted their ballerinas to Julliard more than once. The prestige was at times a little much for Beach City, and Garnet had watched BMW after BMW drive down the street containing privileged toddlers with mothers praying for their little girls to become the next Swan Queen, Sleeping Beauty, Sugar Plum Fairy, etc. But it was there, and it was an intrinsic part of the Beach City mold no one openly snubbed. Some were even fascinated by it.

Garnet would never know why she stopped to look inside while on her way to meet Rose. More than likely the pause had started out as a need to check her reflection in the window, and her eye had been caught, derailing her from what should've been a split-second overview of her mostly-leather ensemble. But the fact is, she did stop, and her stare travelled along the muscular yet dainty collective of young women standing at the barre, gazing at themselves through a mirror wall with poised expressions of absolute concentration and control. Garnet understood control, but not in the sense of performance. The idea that someone could dedicate their life to impressing an audience with the perfect formulas of their body was somehow admirable and simultaneously harrowing. She was both impressed and put off by the idea.

A seagull cried out behind her, and she stepped closer to the window. There was one woman in particular who made Garnet's fingers twitch and then curl like a fern. She was a willowy structure who would've been hard-pressed to reach Garnet's shoulder even in heels. Clearly certain about her existence within the studio, the strawberry blonde dipped the toe of her ballet shoe into a pit of sand, twisting her ankle and then smoothly transitioning to the next foot. Garnet knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn't help it. The alabaster ballerina flitted across the wooden floor, pausing only to listen to her instructor, and then drifted toward the barre as if her feet had never touched the ground.

Garnet wasn't sure how long she stared. Long enough to watch the woman create a perfect crescent with her spine, bending it back in an impossible nature Garnet couldn't tear her eyes from. The word 'beauty' wasn't abstract enough to embody the stranger, but it was close enough. It was 'beauty,' but it was the kind captured by Ovid, through the Baroque period, with an important antiquity devoid of time and space and comprised solely of the least human resonations. That was this girl, and Garnet wondered if this was a correlation between the creation of mankind through stardust and catastrophe because the only thing coming to mind was how the woman was a celestial body, not entirely of this earth, and simply alien to the rest of the population.

This alien turned her face toward the mirror, noted that there was someone in the foreground gazing at her, and then swiftly realigned her refined posture. Upright and appearing infuriatingly astute, she turned to face Garnet who, upon realizing she had been caught, hadn't missed a beat and began striding onward. Garnet told herself she would more than likely never see the woman again, and on that note, decided she would buy a dozen jelly filled donuts, eat one and then give Amethyst the rest.

* * *

 

Big Donut was deserted except for Rose, Amethyst and the workers frying dough behind the counter. Amethyst was already on her third donut, animatedly chewing while discussing the plot of a movie she'd regrettably spent money to see, and Rose was smiling, listening with an iced mocha set in front of her. The pair would've been a couple of anomalies to any other onlooker, but Garnet had long since grown accustomed to Rose's pink leather jacket devotedly studded, patched and embroidered and the thick, meticulously curled, pastel pink hair she'd had since high school.

Amethyst's lavender jacket wasn't leather, but a military cut that hung to her knees. The patches had been haphazardly attached with safety pins, and the single, studded shoulder had never been completed because not only was studding time consuming, but Garnet had heard the words 'this fucking hurts' twenty times while Amethyst attempted to hand-stud the fabric. After watching her struggle, Garnet suggested the asymmetrical look was 'pretty cool' and that Amethyst really needed to 'chill,' ending the project in its entirety. When worn, Garnet agreed the jacket really was pretty cool, but when it limply hung on a hanger, it was ridiculous.

"There she is." Amethyst waved a donut at Garnet. Her greyish-purple hair sat on the side of her head in a ratty bun she'd been wearing for three days. It obnoxiously bobbed around as she spoke, taking on a life of its own. Garnet stared at it, uncomfortable. "Took you long enough."

"I was busy."

"That's a little enigmatic of you," Rose said. Her smile was close-lipped but warm enough to brighten the donut shop and her voice so gentle Garnet decided the cotton candy texture of her ringlets really reflected her person. "Did anything interesting happen?"

Garnet considered telling them about the ballerina, but she stopped. "No."

" _Boring_ ," Amethyst groaned and eyed the box Garnet was holding. "Are you going to eat all of those?  _Can_  you eat all of those?"

"Do I ever eat all of these?" Garnet dropped the box of donuts onto the table with a smack, and Amethyst dove in. She turned her gaze to Rose. "You wanted to tell me something?"

"She wanted to tell you something, too?" Amethyst turned toward Rose. " _Yo,_  Rose… It's a secret party."

"I have this idea," Rose paused long enough for Garnet to sit down, "and I want you both to keep an open mind."

"My brain's falling out just for you." Amethyst sucked icing off her fingers. "Hit us with it. The anticipation is  _killing_  me here, and I haven't got all day. The weeklong Buffy marathon, remember?"

"I want to start a band."

Garnet and Amethyst didn't bother hiding their exchange of looks. The silence in contrast with Rose who was smiling so expectantly was too painful for Amethyst, which was why she broke it with a long exhale that Garnet couldn't bear to hear. "A band – like a band of  _thieves_? Open sesame seed? Gold and jewels and the abolition of my student debt?" Amethyst slammed her palm down on the table and Garnet reached to stop Rose's mocha from tipping over. "I'm in. I think this is a  _great_  idea."

" _No_." Rose decided to confirm Garnet's worst fears. "I meant a band – like a rock band. And take this seriously. I'm being serious."

"A  _rock_ band?" Amethyst raised her hands to mimic plucking at bass strings. "I play  _jazz_ , girl. I don't have time for any of that big hair or obnoxious boys shaking their  _things_  in leather chaps. Don't get me wrong. The music's sweet. It's my thing, but the scene sure isn't. Plus, they'd eat us alive. A trio of  _girls_?" She punctuated on that by slurping in air, making wet smacking sounds to emulate eating. "I don't have time for a group of people who don't want to give me an ounce of respect."

"But see, that's what I mean. Why does it have to be a man's world? We could make it  _our_  world if we wanted it enough, but unapologetically. It'd be like creating our own flavor of pie in the bakery, so to speak. You play the bass, I like to sing and Garnet can drum."  
"When I was fourteen," Garnet corrected. "I was fourteen when I played."

"Mn," Amethyst perceptively nodded. " _Pie_ …"

"Rhythm's in your soul, though." Rose made it sound too believable, and Garnet folded her arms over her chest. "You have it in you. I know you still do. And we're the perfect people for this. We conceive beauty and self-preservations in ways the world deserves to understand. Imagine our ideas on a broader scale and bringing solidarity to people who're overlooked by the genre? We could make so many people happy; hopeful, even. Like the riot grrrl ethos but far more inclusive, way more progressive, and to fill the gaps that were made during that movement."

"Why?" Garnet asked. "Why a  _band_? Why not write an article or lobby?"

"Because music, Garnet. It's music."

That was supposed to be a satisfactory answer, and Amethyst scrutinized her donut as if avoiding the confrontation, but Garnet would've put money on it that she actually was scrutinizing the sprinkles' shapes and not what Rose was delegating. Garnet suddenly pushed up her sunglasses and rubbed at her eyes with both hands, processing the commitment, the energy, the financial circumstances, and the list went on. It wasn't that she was entirely logic based, but sometimes, especially when it came to dreaming, a little dose of reality could put things into perspective. In fact, it could also make things tangible, but with Rose, Garnet had learned she could make anything happen if she wanted it enough. That was one of her more appealing traits. She was awe-inspiring, but mostly tenacious.

"Hypothetically," Garnet offered, "if we did decide to orchestrate a band, then what are we going to do about guitar? Some bands have two. One lead and one rhythm, and we have jazz hands, retired for eight years and a self-implied songbird I've never heard sing."

"I've thought about that already." Garnet wasn't surprised. "We put up signs and hold auditions until we find someone we like. Beach City is full of people who play instruments. It wouldn't be that hard to find someone who likes our ideas  _and_  can play the style we want. It'd take less than a week. I also have this neon printing paper I've been needing to use, and this is the perfect excuse."

"We have a style?" Amethyst flicked a sprinkle at Garnet who blocked it with a wave.

Rose finally grabbed one of the donuts. When she bit into it she left a behind a pink lip print. "I already mentioned riot grrrl. Something like that, but more lyrical. I don't think Bikini Kill should be the absolute mold. Maybe Aretha Franklin meets punk. Could you imagine?"

"That," Amethyst hesitated. "That actually sounds kinda, really cool."

"Garnet," Rose leaned forward and took another bite. "Think about it?"

"I'm thinking about it right now."

Amethyst shot her gaze between the two, amused by the silent standoff. Garnet slowly reached for her own blue iced donut and bit down with a hard clamp, slowly chewing with her jaw cocked to the side. The quiet held between them until someone from behind the counter belched loud enough to turn Amethyst's head and make her laugh. Garnet took another bite, swallowed and then dropped her donut onto a napkin with the kind of plop that drew Rose's eye.

"Fine." Garnet muttered. " _Fine_."

Rose brightened and Garnet looked to the side in embarrassment. Amethyst dramatically drummed her hands along the tabletop and looked between them again, waiting for someone to say something more, and she started to laugh again when Garnet leaned back and crossed her arms with a raised eyebrow. The stare off only intensified, and it was Rose who resumed the conversation.

" _So_  – what're we going to call ourselves?" Rose asked.

Garnet reached up and ran her fingers along the shaved sides of her head as she thought. "I'm not good with names."

"Do and the Nuts," Amethyst suggested, grabbing Rose's drink for a long sip.

"That's gross," Garnet murmured.

She turned to gaze out the window, watching as a man in a giant fry costume bumbled past the window as if drunk. Amethyst and Rose continued to hash out their ideas with tittering excitement, but Garnet's mouth was dried out, a cotton field that'd given up on the drought passing. Her innards swayed in time with the wind-swept trees outside, and her thoughts returned to the memory of that ballerina with the strawberry blonde hair and crescent moon back.

* * *

 

They didn't decide on a name.

Garnet wasn't shocked, but she also hadn't been much help either, so she didn't think to critique her two best friends for the indecisiveness. It'd taken her two days afterward to muscle up the strength to go to the storage shed that held her tired drum set. Eight years had gone by since it'd seen the light of day, and she thought back on the inexplicable excitement for them she'd once felt when she was a teenager. All that hope and unarmored trust in the future. Before she'd gotten the news that her father was never returning from the hospital and her grandma wouldn't make it through the night.

She'd recycled these cliché traumas in her head over and over again, never allowing them to become a reason for the shortcomings and subtle vacancies she associated with her life, but sometimes, it all lined up too perfectly. Garnet wasn't fond of placing blame on anyone but herself, so as the garage's door loomed overhead, creaking and threatening to slam down on her skull, she viewed the drums as a child's hobby that'd been distracted by the spinning wheels known as Growing Up. Drumming wasn't a lucrative platform for a future, but then again, neither was managing a store like Puff Puff Pass where she sold more bongs than she did actual loose-leaf tobacco and rolling papers.

"Hey there," Garnet said to no one in particular.

It took several minutes to wade through the piles of junk that'd once filled her dad's house. He'd played saxophone and collected music memorabilia, which meant the boxes of sheet music, framed portraits of artists and collections of vinyl were overwhelming. This didn't even include the moldy furniture that'd been eaten through by moths or the dated appliances she'd never had the motivation to sell, but as she climbed over mountains of Stuff and Things, Garnet regretted that reluctance. Only when her flashlight's beam flitted over what looked to be a cymbal did she dust off her studded shoulder in relief. The hard part had only begun, though. She still needed to drag it out.

Garnet called for backup, and in half an hour Rose pulled up with Amethyst in her battered green jeep with its bumper covered in kitschy stickers of matryoshka dolls, aliens and feminist iconography. Amethyst was eating fries with a determined face as she hopped out of the side, but when she spotted the mess that was Garnet's garage, she turned on her heel only to be pushed back by Rose's gentle shove. Amethyst muttered something in Spanish that Garnet couldn't understand, but the tone was enough to let her know no one had warned her about the potential cleanup job.

"It's a jungle in there," Amethyst observed, smacking her lips and looking at Garnet accusingly. "Do you even know  _where_  it is? Or is this going to turn into some Indiana Jones shit?"

"I found it," Garnet reassured her, and Amethyst's shoulders relaxed. "But we still need to move couches to get to it."

"Oh, man…" Amethyst's shoulders sagged, but Rose clucked her tongue.

"It's not a problem. We'll get this place cleaned out in no time."

"No time…" Amethyst cut a side-glance. " _Right_."

Two hours later, after Amethyst had convinced Garnet and Rose there was no need to clean everything out and that she would climb that terrain and drag the set out herself, the three stood outside in chilled autumn air and exchanged glances because Garnet's Pearl drum kit looked as if it'd given up a decade before any of them could suggest that maybe this band thing was a bad idea. Dust covered, streaked in dirt and littered with tiny dead bugs, there was nothing about it that inspired Garnet or Amethyst, but Rose had an entirely different angle on the drum kit.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

Amethyst turned to Garnet. "She's punishing us for something. What did you  _do_?"

"I'll get back to you when I figure that out."

Rose strode up to the drum set and ran her hand along one of the cymbals. Her hand was covered in dark filth, and she leaned over to dig through an accompanying box with drumsticks, molded sheet music and accessories that were more knickknacks to her than anything. She settled on the drumsticks and tossed them at Garnet who caught them without missing a beat. They smacked firmly against the center of her palm, and Rose gestured at the seat with a bright smile.

"I need to tune them."

"Tune them later," Rose countered.

"It's not structurally sound."

"Don't be a weenie." Amethyst shoved at the small of Garnet's back, and Garnet breathed in deep. "Weenie Garnet and the Toasted Buns; that'll be our name if you don't giver her a go."

Garnet gingerly pushed Amethyst aside, but she did walk toward the set with her tongue gliding along her front teeth, firmly hidden beneath her lips. She cleared her throat, wished there wasn't an audience, and she took her seat before rolling back her shoulders. Her foot comfortably sat on the bass pedal, and that's where the heartbeat began. What'd started out as a test morphed into the pulse of a concept, and Garnet bobbed her head as she determined the set was stable enough to be beaten through hell. As if the past eight years had never happened, she spun the left stick through three fingers and didn't bother to glance up at her two friends before beating down on two oppositely mounted toms.

Had Garnet seen Rose and Amethyst's reactions, then she might've stopped. The two stood in front of her, lips parted and eyes wide with unfurling smiles while watching her project the life force of music and rhythm via an explosion of tangible colors. Amethyst reached up and grabbed Rose's sleeve, tugging over and over again and smiling starry-eyed because she finally understood. She knew exactly what Rose had meant when she'd introduced the band idea two days ago. It was music, and that was a good enough answer for anyone when witnessing the undeniably raw talent reverberating through Garnet's tendons. Other people would understand if they had the chance to see, and this was only one part of what would eventually become what Amethyst believed to be an infallible team.

"Have you made those fliers yet?" Amethyst asked.

Rose reached into her back pocket and thrust a folded piece of neon pink paper into Amethyst's hand. "Tell me what you think."

* * *

 

Hand-drawn with bubbly cursive, the flier only had two specifications; the time for auditions and that the musician be a woman.

Garnet, Amethyst and Rose spent the next afternoon enthusiastically coating all of Beach City in the ad. They only stopped once for lunch, much to Rose and Amethyst's annoyance, because Garnet had a shift later that day, and they had to finish before then. The entire time Rose pasted pieces of striking paper onto post after wooden post, Garnet had watched her dance in place, animatedly singing her impromptu song about them using their space craft of influence to better the world through positive sight and sound – or something along those lines. Garnet's focus had been repeatedly distracted because they kept passing back and forth in front of the ballet studio.

"I didn't know you were interested in dancing!" Amethyst had noticed and smacked the center of Garnet's back while running past her. "Rose! Rose, I'm out of fliers!"

"This is excessive," Garnet murmured more to herself than anyone.

"Excessively _awesome_ ," Amethyst corrected.

They gave Beach City a week. A single week to let word spread that those 'three weird-os' were at it again with one of Rose's extraordinary ideas that more than likely would crash and burn. At this point, the city was mostly charmed by Rose's domineering presence and idealism. She loved herself and loved those around her with unfaltering honesty, and her charisma made everyone believe her even when her ideas were as far-fetched as a rock band. This was why so many people lined up outside of her parking garage; some to audition, but it was mostly to observe. They wanted to see her work her magic.

The morning of the auditions, Garnet had woken up to Rose slamming through the house alongside Amethyst, gathering papers, attempting to decide on a criteria for auditions. Garnet had rolled off her mattress with a dead thud before dragging herself onto two feet and considering coffee. She wasn't wearing pants when she appeared in the living room, but no one in the household wore pants unless it was absolutely necessary. It was 2 PM, her roommates had been awake for hours, and Amethyst was still only wearing a towel while scribbling out quick signs.

"Shouldn't you have done this a week ago?" Garnet groggily asked, rubbing her temple.

"Probably," Rose exhaled. "But we were busy."

Busy with a Buffy marathon. "You were?"

Amethyst's hair hung loose over her face as she murmured beneath her breath only to loudly scream into her palm when she realized what she'd done. "I wrote it in Spanish!"

"Again?" Rose asked, leaning into the kitchen doorway. " _Again_?"

"I don't care!" Amethyst stacked her signs. "People will  _get_  it!"

"Draw pictures," Garnet offered, trying not to smile, but she failed.

"You're not  _helping_ …" Amethyst looked at the clock. "Holy shit… We have thirty minutes to get that garage set up. Bring the coffee, Garnet."

"Amethyst," Garnet reached out for her shoulder. "Don't go out there yet."

" _Why_?"

"Because you're naked."

After scrounging and arguing, they managed to open the garage door fully clothed, which Garnet internally considered to be a miracle. Outside, there was already a grouping of up to ten girls with guitar cases slung over their backs, quietly talking and sizing up their competition with an assortment of ripped tights and leather jackets to accent whatever claim to Hardass they thought they had. Amethyst slapped signs along the outside of the garage and shoved out a couple chairs and coolers of water while Rose drank her Coke and stared with big eyes; inspired, excited and nervous. Garnet took her seat with her coffee, crossing her legs and numbly staring out at the growing crowd.

"I'm going to give everyone numbers," Rose explained to Garnet who was still trying to wake up. "And then we'll get their phone numbers, name and all that jazz."

"Jazzy," Amethyst waggled her fingers and turned to Garnet. "You could wake up a little."

"I haven't brushed my teeth."

"That sounds like a personal problem," Amethyst said, flitting away to help Rose.

Garnet rolled her eyes to the side, wraparound sunglasses pushed back on her head as she squinted at the collection of people being handed numbers. She recognized handfuls of the women, but because she didn't want to be caught staring, she yanked the glasses down and continued her observations. Rose returned and tapped her shoulder solely so that she could catch her attention while smiling down at her. Garnet waved at Rose and then weakly smiled in return.

"This is the start of something wonderful, Garnet."

"I believe you."

"I know you do," Rose said, sitting down beside her. "And that means a lot."

When all the numbers were handed out, Amethyst appeared in front of the two with her hair held back by a pen she'd already chewed wrinkles into. She finally took her seat, notebook settled on her lap, and yanked the pen out of her hair, allowing the whole mass to fall. Garnet grabbed her own notebook to write on and realized she knew nothing about guitarists or the mechanisms of guitar playing. None of them except Amethyst did, and that entire concept was daunting.

"If someone brings in an acoustic guitar, then they're not allowed to even play," Amethyst said simply before the first girl entered; greasy and with a chip on her shoulder so large her arm was practically missing. Rose opened her mouth to protest this condition, but Amethyst looked her square in the face. "Rose, please. I know what I'm talking about here."

"If you say so." Rose reluctantly picked up her pen. "Name?"

"Belladonna."

Garnet sank in her seat before muttering under her breath. " _No_."

If Garnet had thought she and Amethyst could give hard critique, then neither of them had ever seen Rose in a judgmental setting until that afternoon. It wasn't in Rose's nature to pass judgment on much of anything, but right then was different. Girl after girl entered the garage and stepped out knowing, due to Rose's forced smile, there would be no callback. Her severity had been so unforgiveable, that when there was a moment when Amethyst had decided on someone, Rose had dismissively cut her a side stare that frightened Amethyst into clearing her throat and explaining they'd call.

"She was good," Amethyst whispered, harsh and annoyed, watching the woman drift out onto the sidewalk. "She was  _really_  good."

"Not what we're looking for."

" _What_ are we looking for then? Because that was awes –  _oh_! Hey!"

Garnet's back straightened when the next and final to audition stepped into the garage. This sudden movement shut both Rose and Amethyst up, and their line of sight followed Garnet's example and on toward the single figure standing in the center of the garage. She was poised with a guitar slung across her chest that hung loosely at her hips. Braided together by tree branches with a sweeping strawberry blonde ponytail, a thin pointed nose and unwavering sense of self that forced Garnet to lean forward; Garnet recognized this woman as the ballerina she'd gawked at.

"Hello," she started. Her voice was terse yet somehow nervously musical. "I'm here to audition for your band."

"And  _what_  do you even  _play_?" Amethyst's nose was already crinkling.

"What's your name?" Garnet corrected Amethyst's rudeness.

"Pearl," she stated. "My name's Pearl."

Rose parted her lips, and her smile grew. "Pearl, what a nice name. Plug her up, sister. Show us what you've got."

The pastel yellow Gibson swayed as she approached the amp, and it was then Garnet noticed she was wearing nothing except powder blue accented by melon tones. Her mock turtleneck was comedic in juxtaposition to the three women currently evaluating her, but Garnet decided she liked the floral print of her leggings and her knee high boots. It could've been worse, she told herself. They'd already seen so much worse, but then again, not everyone could be as fond as block coloring as the other three were. It was most definitely an acquired taste. Like beer, but more obnoxious.

Pearl casually grabbed the pick threaded between the strings along the guitar's neck and cleared her throat, standing in first position with a straight spine. Garnet was captured, waiting with bated breath until Pearl finally sidestepped and fluidly began running her fingers along the neck, plucking out reverberating chords that exited the amp so quickly Amethyst barely had the chance to react.

"What?" Amethyst murmured in disgusted awe. " _What_?"

"Oh my goodness," Rose answered.

Garnet recognized Hendrix's "Voodoo Child" instantly, and she didn't notice it at first, but she was grinning as the ballerina summoned the dead with the kind of face melting that'd brought tears to Rose's eyes. Amethyst rubbed at her temples, turned to Garnet, and Garnet turned back to Amethyst only to cough out a sharp laugh. Though Amethyst wouldn't admit it then, all of them knew they could've listened to Pearl's flawlessly executed rifts and distortion until the sun collided with planet earth and charred their bones, forcing the world to start anew.

"She's wearing a turtleneck," Amethyst murmured from the corner of her mouth.

"She can wear Chanel suits on stage for all I care," Rose snapped. "She's  _amazing_."

"But…" Amethyst exhaled. "But it's a turtleneck, guys."

"I like it," Garnet offered, ending the entire discussion.

Pearl felt everything she played, swaying her head and concentrating on each movement with such exactitude Garnet was disappointed when she finally stopped, out of breath and clearly self-satisfied. Rose stood up, and she clapped. Garnet mirrored her gesture and Amethyst propped her cheek up on her palm while slapping the surface of the table with an open palm over and over again.

"Pearl," Rose exhaled, breathless from enthusiasm. "Welcome to The Crystal Fems."

"Wait," Amethyst turned and gazed up at Rose. "The Crystal  _Whats_?"

Pearl and Garnet quietly stared one another down, drinking in the appearance of the other with a silent awareness neither would want to own up to several years down the road. But it was vivid with a sense of absolution that gave way to that interstellar starting point of every great saga. Garnet drummed her fingers along her kneecaps, and Pearl thoughtfully bit her bottom lip until flesh threatened to break. One could never predict an Odyssey, but right then, Garnet truly believed that, had someone gazed long enough, then their futures could've been traced through the stars.


End file.
